


Not All Gifts Are Good

by Mollygail



Category: White Collar
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Neal has secrets, Nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:41:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26503054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mollygail/pseuds/Mollygail
Summary: Neal gets a mysterious package. Just a little silly story that popped into my head. Please don't hate me for causing Neal to be embarrassed again.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Not All Gifts Are Good

“Peter, come on…El’s out of town and you have to eat something more healthy than cereal for dinner. I’ll cook us dinner and I’ll even let you watch the ballgame.”

Peter sighed. He really didn’t want to go home to eat a bowl of cereal. “Ok. You talked me into it.” 

They got out of the car and walked up the steps to the front door. Even after all these months, Peter couldn’t get over Neal’s luck in finding a lady like June to give him a place to live.

“I hope you know how lucky you are, Neal. June is way too good to you.”

Neal opened the front door and stepped aside for Peter to enter. “I know, Peter.” He turned and closed the door behind him and started walking toward the stairs. 

“Neal, dear, wait a moment please.” June walked gracefully into the entry hall to greet him. “A package was delivered for you today. It’s there on the table. I would have carried it up to your rooms but it was a bit heavy.”

Neal turned and examined the package. There was no return address on the address label and he hadn’t been expecting a package. 

“What is it, Neal?” Peter looked over Neal’s shoulder at the large box. 

“I have no idea, Peter. My x-ray vision doesn’t seem to be working.” 

“No return address…that’s a little suspicious.” Peter never seemed to take a moment off from being a lawman.

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, Peter.” Neal cautiously nudged the box. It did seem to be heavy. He tilted the box a bit to see if anything rattled…or started ticking. 

“You look a little jumpy for someone sure there’s nothing to worry about. Maybe we should have a team come check it out.” Peter had stepped back a few steps and motioned for June to do the same. 

“No…I don’t think that’s necessary, Peter. I think I recognize the handwriting on the label.” Neal was becoming more convinced that the box wouldn’t explode, but he was also sure he didn’t want Peter to see what was inside. “I’ll just carry it up and open it later…after dinner.”

“You mean after I’ve gone home, right? What’s in the box, Caffrey?”

The use of ‘Caffrey’ meant that Peter was becoming more suspicious of Neal than he was of the box. This wasn’t good. Neal hoped the box didn't contain what he was starting to suspect it might. _'Please don’t let it be what I think it is.'_

“Well, Neal, pick it up so we can get it upstairs and out of June’s hallway.”

Neal sighed and closed his eyes. If he was a praying man he’d whisper a quick prayer. A thought kept repeating in his head as he picked up the box; _‘please don’t let it be that, please don’t let it be that…’_

Neal pulled the box to the edge of the table and slid his hands under the sides of the box to pick it up. _'No, No, No….'_ He could tell by the weight of the box it was what he’d suspected. He was all too familiar with the weight of this item. After all this time of not hearing from his mom, why did she have to contact him this way?. Slowly, as if on his way to his own hanging, he carried the box up the stairs. He entered the loft and set the box down on the coffee table. 

“I’ll just go get dinner started. Do you want a beer, Peter?”

“First I want you to open the box.”

“It’s personal, Peter. There are no broken laws associated with that box.”

“Do I need to remind you that according to the terms of your parole I can search your apartment any time I want? I don’t need a warrant.”

“Fine. Can I have a drink first?’’ Neal walked over to his liquor cabinet and poured some whiskey in a glass. He tossed back the drink and poured another before walking over to sit on the couch facing the box. The evil box of doom.

“Peter, can you at least promise that this will be our secret? Please don’t tell anyone about this.”

Peter had never seen Neal react to anything in this way. He seemed to truly dread opening the box. He even seemed embarrassed about what he thought was inside.

“Sorry, Neal, I can’t make any promises if I don’t know what’s in there. Now open it already.”

Neal downed the rest of the whiskey in his glass and used his pocket knife to slice through the tape on the box. He opened the top of the box and stood up to pull out a hard, leather-covered case. He placed the case on the table and threw the outer box aside.

“There…see…nothing illegal. Now let’s eat.”

“Open the case, Neal.”

Peter heard a strange sound coming from Neal’s throat. A moan? No, it was more of a whimpering sound.

Neal laid the case on its’ side so he could undo the latches and open the lid. Peter’s eyes grew wide in surprise. 

“I’m sorry, Neal, but I’m going to need proof that it belongs to you.”

“You don’t mean…”

“You know what I mean.”

Again there was a whiney whimper as Neal picked the thing up and slid his arms through the straps. He unhooked the latch on top and placed his hands on the shiny keys. With closed eyes and a deep sigh, he began to play the instrument that had been the bane of his teenaged existence. 

With Neal’s eyes closed, Peter was able to take out his phone to record the moment. Because, without a video, who would ever believe that Neal Caffrey, conman extraordinaire, was a less-that-accomplished accordion player. Peter smirked as the thought occurred to him that he had heard better renditions of Moon River, but he’d never heard one he’d enjoyed more.


End file.
